Motorcycles in March

Once, I used to gauge the onset of spring by when I would start seeing the kids in the neighbourhood out on their new bikes. Now, since I don't live in a neighbourhood and haven't for a while, I can't see the new bikes and kids so I have started assessing springs' progress by when I see motorcycles on the road. This is week number two. Astonishing, really, when I think about it. I mean, motorcycles. In March. Normally we get about a third of our annual snowfall between mid-February and the end of March. We are, with the exception of snowbanks, completely snow free. Where once, a month ago, there was this:

There is now this:

This is by far the fastest snow melt I have ever seen, which unfortunately coincides with the the least amount of snow in this part of Northern Ontario I have ever seen. If this five-weeks-of-winter thing keeps up, I'm moving. Again.

Jenn had a hard time taking the dogs for a walk yesterday evening. Since the snow has disappeared so quickly and so soon, the snowshoe hares are at a severe disadvantage right now. Everything is mud or leaf coloured. Except them. When you have two puppies and six adult dogs running around loose it doesn't take one of them, and shortly the rest, long to see a blaze of white against the dark background.

It was Valley's turn to be in the house for a visit last night. Next to Hudson, Valley has the biggest feet and she sure can track in a lot of mud at one time. She's a pretty big dog, especially when she is in the house, but she is scared of the floor -- too slippery -- so that slows the wreckage down a bit: almost like watching a car wreck on slow motion film. You know the damage is going to be bad it just takes a while to happen.

It didn't take Valley long to find the bunny, either.

Seen here, Valley is using her wits to tackle the complicated barricade we had set up to discourage her and the rabbit meeting.

It didn't work. Here are the two of them, sitting down to a serious discussion. I imagine the dialogue was along these lines:

V: Good evening, my long-eared chum. I haven't seen you for quite some time!
B: Why, good evening, Valley! Fancy you in here! You've caught me rather unaware; I have nothing to offer you. Unless you'd enjoy a carrot top, perhaps?
V: Not to worry, my good rabbit. I'm only here to pass the time.
B: Well, then, what shall our topic of discourse be this evening?

I am now at the point in this post where I have to devote some time to the arts. It is always dogs, dogs, dogs on this site, but there are some out there that appreciated the higher forms of entertainment, some culture I guess, and I don't want to alienate them. Today, we will focus on a young artist who normally works in the body art medium but has lately switched to marker and paper. I feel this is a wise move as the art pieces will better lend themselves to display and will also have more permanence. She is currently going through her "Spuds" phase; so called because her character studies are rather potato-like. Here she is, with her piece simply titled Mommy:

And following that, the eagerly anticipated and highly debated Self-Portrait of the Artist:

There was much debate around the release of this piece because it lacked the customary straight lines at odd angles that normally account for appendages in this style. When I was able to interview the artist, I took a moment to ask why this particular portrait had a noticeable lack of arms or legs. "They are happy." she said, simply. They are happy. A lesson for all, perhaps. I was also fortunate enough to capture the enigmatic artist in a moment of playful coyness, where she threatened to shoot this reporter with an elastic. Her aim is pretty good, so that is all I have to report at this time.